


Some People Have Two People

by Fishwichformylove



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-04
Updated: 2012-09-04
Packaged: 2017-11-13 13:29:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/504022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fishwichformylove/pseuds/Fishwichformylove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>America requests a threesome with France. England, surprisingly, doesn't have a problem with it. Warnings: Brief rimming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some People Have Two People

America was giggling already, flushed and unsteady as he pulled France toward the bed, acting like a drunken twit even though England had allowed him only half a glass of wine at dinner. That was England's role in this, they had decided: control. Participation, surely, but mostly making sure no one over-stepped any boundaries.  
"Not on the mouth."

America and France froze, midway to a kiss; tongue, if America's dumb, gaping expression was any indication. He collected himself and cleared his throat, while France mumbled a quick apology and started undoing his tie.

"Are there any other rules I should know about?" He addressed England directly, tossing his tie over a chair and unclasping his writstwatch.

"For my part, no. You'll have to ask him." There was, of course, the unspoken rule that England and France would not be engaging in any sexual activities with each other. England had, as America might say, "been there, done that", and it wasn't about them anyway. This was America's little game.

England could have gagged at the fond smile France gave America as he stroked his cheek and tilted his chin up. "Hmm?"

America was so smitten it was embarrassing to watch. "Oh, uh, no. If I think of something..."

"You'll let me know." France removed America's glasses and set them on the night stand with his wristwatch. He ran his fingers through America's hair and down his neck, leaning forward to place a tender kiss on his forehead.

America's expression turned dreamy and shy, and England smiled wryly to himself. America had admitted to always having tiny crush on France, and it was not without some irritation that England realized America had probably wanted the frog far longer than he'd wanted England. Early teenaged fantasies that had never quite dissolved, something of that nature, England assumed, and he almost had the good sense to be insulted. But it was hard to care when he had had his fair share of threesomes, terrible and wonderful, and at any rate, America was his now and he could afford to be indulgent. He'd never admit it out loud, but England was looking forward to watching America get fucked, even if it was by France.

France was working his mouth down America's neck and across his throat, nipping at his Adam's Apple when he tilted his head back with a stilted sigh. They shifted closer together, still sitting side by side on the edge of the bed, France moving slowly and deliberately, America sighing and heaving breaths like he'd never tasted oxygen before. England was entranced by the way he kept opening his mouth and then shutting it to bite his lip, as if he were about to say something but couldn't muster the focus. England rarely saw that in their lovemaking anymore, having become too familiar with one another for timidity. He felt himself getting aroused as France slid a hand up America's t-shirt, stroking his stomach and sides before settling to thumb at a nipple. England involuntarily licked his bottom lip, watching the agonizing circle through the fabric of the shirt, and the way America gripped France's thigh to keep from making any noise.

When he did finally get control of his tongue again, he turned his face toward England.

"Can you get over here, please?"

"Huh?"

"I'm gonna lose it if you don't start kissing me or somethin'."

"Right. Of course." England kicked off his shoes and peeled off his sweater, tossing onto the chair with France's tie. He untucked his white button-down shirt and took off his belt, then sat on the other side of America, pulling his face towards him for a kiss. America whined, but England thought it had more to do with what France was doing than the kiss, so he pushed his tongue into America's mouth, and gripped the back of his head unkindly. Squirming happily, America laved his own tongue against England's, letting himself be pushed around, but pawing impatiently at England's crotch. Pulling away with a wet sound, England stopped America from undoing his trousers.

"I believe you should be paying more attention to our guest, dear."

"Oh, right. Sorry."

"No apologies needed," France cooed, and pulled America's t-shirt over his head. America's hair was gloriously mussed, and England ran his fingers through it as the others worked in tandem to rid France of his shirt. France stood and was about to unbuckle his belt, but England reached out and stopped him.

"Use your teeth," he commanded softly in America's ear, and shifted so he could wrap both arms around America's middle and watch.

France hummed appreciatively and moved close enough that America could reach. America looked puzzled for a moment, unsure of how he was going to manage, then took a hold of France's hips and started mouthing at the leather of his belt. It took him a few tries to untuck the first loop, but he had an easier time getting the pin out, then yanked the entire belt away by the clasp, smirking.

"The button and zipper as well."

America huffed, but put his mouth on the waistband of France's trousers, pulling him closer. It must have tickled, because Frances stomach muscles twitched and he brushed America's hair away from his forehead as he clumsily bit at the button. Just as America succeeded in undoing the button, England skimmed his hands down his hips and thighs until he was palming his groin. Faltering, America rested his forehead on France's belly, and groaned.

"Focus, now," England whispered and pulled his legs apart to continue rubbing over the hardening cock he could feel beneath the denim of America's jeans.

"Fuck you."

England almost retorted with something about how America was the one who was getting fucked, but he thought it might be in poor taste. He squeezed along the outline of his erection, hard and impatient, until America took the hint and pulled France's zipper down with his teeth.

France whispered something so quietly that only America heard him, and the latter looked up and England could hear the short laugh and smile that followed. Kissing down France's stomach, he peeled the trousers from his hips before nuzzling coyly at the front of his underwear. Frankly, England was surprised France was wearing any at all, but let the thought float away as he undid the front of America's jeans to slip his hand inside and past his boxers.

Both France and America were panting and groaning like a pair of horny virgins, and England rolled his eyes, pulling America away from France's crotch to kiss him again. There was a dark spot where the wet of America's mouth had spread across the blue cotton underwear, but even that was gone in an instant. It figured France would be the first one naked.

He half expected France to ask to be sucked off, but he knelt down between America's thighs instead, casually stroking himself hard as he gestured with a thrust of the chin that England should move America's garments aside. England pushed at America's hips and ass until he lifted up enough that France could fling the jeans and boxers away somewhere behind him. America squeaked and looked down into his lap as if here were surprised his clothes were gone and was about to say something before France grabbed his cock and wrapped his lips around it. England put his arms around America's middle again and rested his chin on his shoulder, watching as his cock slowly disappeared into France's mouth. There were soft, slick sounds as France repeated the motion, taking in tip to base each time without faltering, and America gripped the bedding so hard his arms shook, breathing so rapidly that even England's body pulsed with the spastic rise and fall.

Whether it was because he knew America wouldn't last long, or because he was growing bored kneeling on the hardwood floor, France gave one last lick before standing and motioning for America and England to get on the bed properly. He arranged himself so that he was slightly propped up by the pillows spread his legs.

"Come here, mon coeur."

America went to lie on top of him, but France made a circle with one finger and smiled kindly.

"Other way."

"O-oh."

While he flipped himself around, France looked down the length of him to England and raised an eyebrow. "Lube?"

"Ah. Right. Just a moment, then."

By the time England came back from the bathroom with a Ziploc bag containing a few different bottles of lotions and lubricants, America was already fast at work drooling on France's cock. He gave head like he did everything else: sloppily, but with an admirable enthusiasm and England was almost jealous until he remembered that he had no reason to be. He'd get his later.

France was petting and pinching America's thighs and ass, appraising and pleased, or at least amused, by what he found. However fit the rest of America was, he'd always had a bit of a fat ass, and the cheeks were rapidly turning pink from France's groping.

"Here. Pick your poison." England tossed the bag toward France, then sat on the edge of the bed to supervise America's slipshod blowjob.

Lazily using one hand to fondle America's balls, France read the labels of a few bottles then pulled out one of the garishly coloured ones, turning it around to see the ingredients. England couldn't stop himself for chuckling when he saw the label.

"Oh, really now?"

France just smiled and shrugged, pouring some the liquid on two fingers and warming it before he started rubbing it in small circles against America's asshole.

America flinched then relaxed, jerking France's cock to give his mouth a break and looked up at England.

"'Oh, really' what?"

"Never mind, you'll like it."

"Like wha- oh god, what the fuck?"

England chuckled again as America tried to look behind himself to watch France licking around his hole. He didn't think he had ever seen America get so red so quickly, and he thought that he might pull away and ask France to stop out of embarrassment, but instead, America stuck his ass further up and laid his forehead on one of France's knees with a low whine. France stopped to get more lube on his fingers, and sent England a questioning look.

"And I thought you spoiled him." He stroked down the inside of America's thigh, with a clean hand, addressing him now. "You mean your darling Englishmen has never used his mouth on you like this?"

"Uh, n-no."

"Pity."

"Well, don't fucking stop."

England was content to watch America squirm and tremble against France's mouth, stroking his hair occasionally, or teasing him when his moans got louder. By the time fingers had replaced tongue, America had given up trying to maintain his attentions on France's cock and was nearly flat against the bed, save for the peak of his hips wiggling back and forth.

Seemingly content with his work, France nudged at America's legs until he moved off of him and held his hand out to England. England didn't need to be told what he wanted this time and fished a condom out of the night-table, giving it to America with an encouraging nod. America took an excited breath and ripped the package open, but hesitated in putting the condom over France's cock.

"I can't believe I'm actually going to have sex with you."

Both England and France had a good laugh at that, and France guided America's hands to finish their task.

"And what do you think we have been doing up until now, hmm?"

"Well, yeah, but...not like real... shut up," America mumbled self-consciously, and grabbed a different bottle of lube to slick France up. He positioned himself timidly, waiting for one final nod from England before lowering himself down.

"Ohhh, yeah. Fucking awesome."

A few minor adjustments were made before America rolled his hips slowly, not quite in time with France's gentle upward pulse. Their breathing was ragged, and that and the sound of wet skin meeting and parting was enough to warm England enough to finally take off his own shirt. He pressed himself up against America's back, sucking at his neck and shoulder, but not hindering the motion of his fucking. France was keeping his eyes trained on America's face with that same fond expression, massaging up and down his thighs.

America thrived under the attention.

That was all he ever wanted, England thought as he slid his hands around to toy with America's nipples. America devoured attention, good or bad, and would soak up any affection given him like a sponge. And affection was certainly being lavished upon him now. It was crude and taboo, of course, but there were still loving hands and loving lips moving against him, so America panted and moaned and thrived all the same.

"Can you-"

"What, mon coeur?"

"Can you talk, or something. It's too quiet."

England peered down at France over America's shoulder. "Speak your language. He told me that turns him on."

"Engl- hey! That was a secret!"

England snorted. "Go on. Do it."

France's smile turned more wicked and he rattled a few sentences off as he reached around to grab at America's ass again.

"Hngh, what did he say?"

Of course America didn't know a single word of of French, none of the useful ones anyway. France looked up at England with eyebrows arched, questioning whether he would really repeat what he'd said. England just smirked and nipped the shell of America's ear as he leaned in to whisper his translation.

"He said you feel so good, so hot and silky."

America just moaned and faltered, which seemed like permission to continue. France spun obscenities and England translated no matter how foul the words became. Soon France was doing more thrusting up than America was riding, so England reached his hand around to America's cock to finish him off. He found France's hand already there, stroking in tortuous patterns that England could barely keep up with. Their fingers fumbled against one another until a more suitable rhythm could be found and worked together to bring America to an unnecessarily loud orgasm. Perhaps it was the extra stimulation or just the novelty of fucking someone new, but England noted that America came more than usual, enough that England pulled his hand away dripping even with France getting half of the mess.

France sat up and murmured something in America's ear to which America nodded and let himself be rolled over onto his stomach. England decided to get out of their way, heading to the bathroom for a towel as France pumped himself less gracefully into a considerably more pliant America.

Upon returning, France was just pulling out, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, and satisfied grin plastered on his face. He took one of America's hands and kissed it, and America rolled on his side, laughing a little, but still looking out of his mind from his own orgasm. England leaned down to kiss him on the mouth and hand him the towel, then pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of the night-table.

"You'll be wanting one of these, I suppose?" He dangled a cigarette in France's face before putting it between his own lips.

"Mmm, please." France cleaned himself up quickly and accepted the thin bathrobe England offered him so they could head out onto the small balcony attached to the bedroom.

If America cared about being left alone, he didn't say anything, resting idly on his stomach again.

England lit his cigarette and offered the lighter to France, who decided to kiss the cold end of his cigarette to England's instead.

"You do spoil, him, you know."

England snorted and took a long drag. "You say that like I've ever done anything else."

"Touché."

They were silent for a little while before France tapped some ash from his cigarette into a tray on the balcony railing and nudged England.

"No jealousy, then?"

"None."

"How very civilized of you."

"Hmm."

"You did not seek much satisfaction, I noticed."

England laughed. "He's not remotely finished, I guarantee you. I'm merely pacing myself."

It was France's turn to snort, this time in disbelief. "He is young, but I can't imagine he would be-"

"Hey, are you guys done with your nasty cancer sticks yet? It's getting' kinda lonely in here."

England and France shared a long, knowing look, before they both stubbed out their cigarettes, not even halfway finished with them.

"But wash your mouths out first! I ain't fucking with no ashtrays."

"Incroyable," France muttered, half impressed and half irritated. "I may have to give you more credit for indulging him than I have been."

England just gave a short bow, and a flourished gesture back into the bedroom.

"After you, dear friend. You are the guest of honour, after all.


End file.
